For my last post of the year

(Via WorldNet Daily)

I’m going out on a positive note:

In this sleepy country town, which sprang up around a railroad junction and the start of the Chisholm trail, folks give out their phone numbers by the last four digits, the annual Tom-Tom festival culminates with the crowning of the Tomato King and Queen, and everybody knows Doc Watson.

This is a piece of America that is pretty much gone. I remember my doctor making housecalls when I was a kid–I’d hate to try and find one now who would.

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